Armin hadn't passed his weekend in exactly the same way as usual. Recently, he'd been feeling that he'd gotten to the point where nothing in his life was particularly enjoyable, but many things seem to waste his time for long enough for him not to end up staring at his bedroom wall, being crushed under the weight of his own existential angst. At weekends, he mostly slept- 15 hours a day- caught up on homework he'd found no interest in doing during the week, and, on Saturday afternoons, went to the market to see how much fresh produce he could buy with eight euros, to last him and his mother through the week.

The appearance of this puzzle, this fixation, this boy with stunning eyes, however, changed the normal set-up of Armin's weekend. While he still slept the same amount, he felt less reluctant to give up his bed-covers and care about the world when he could try and get his somewhat obsessively logical mind around the things that made up that dark-skinned boy that now occupied his dreams.

His laptop progressively warmed his lap as he tapped keywords into the search bar, one after the other in an attempt to widen his knowledge: anxiety, social anxiety, mutism, selective mutism, mutism causes, mutism and depression, depression. He knew what came next, but his cowardly fingers couldn't let him face up to it, as he tried to ignore the mental image of the tiny slices running up Eren's arm; like marks to remember something written in permanent marker, or graffiti scratched onto a flower-adorned gravestone.

He came out understanding a number of things, and none had to do with the nature of Eren's inability to speak. Whatever the cause (if any), whatever the seriousness, whatever treatment (if any) he was undertaking, was nothing to do with Armin unless Eren, at some point in the future, decided that this was something that he felt Armin should know. The literature was far too confusing and contradictory for Armin to come up with his own judgements anyway, particularly as he'd only just met Eren.

He had decided that he personally found no fault in Eren not being able to speak. It was the way he coped, and who was Armin to judge. It was stupid to think, and he'd never say it out loud, but there were days when he thought the whole world would do well to fall silent, even if just for an hour or two.

Knowing that Eren had a plenty loud enough voice when he was in danger was comforting though.

Armin took a walk. It wasn't something he was in the habit in, being a small boy in what most bar his mother would consider to be a rough part of town, but he wore a hat and gender-neutral clothing in the hope that he wouldn't be mistaken for a girl or an effeminate boy. Hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his coat, he took a backstreet to avoid the bar on the main road along from his house, following it out of town.

His thinking was that wherever Eren and Mikasa lived, it couldn't be more than a quarter of an hour from where Armin lived, and could only be in virtually one direction, judging by the route they would have taken (if it weren't for the detour in the name of a sandwich) from the school. He wasn't sure what he'd achieve, other than perhaps being equal with them in regards to the amount he knew about them. In an ideal world, Eren would be sat on his doorstep, doing his homework, and his face would light up into a lopsided grin as Armin called out his name.

Armin stopped, shoes scuffing against the pavement underfoot. This was ridiculous.

Perhaps it was the effect of the walk, but Armin felt more refreshed than usual from his weekend. He got up early and had breakfast, leaving a cup of tea on his mother's bedside table before stepping out the door, organised, upbeat and looking cute in his favourite jumper.

Jean didn't notice. Like hell did he notice. He went off on one until Armin shut him up about Eren, at which point he began muttering about apologising. He had an annoying habit of running his hands through his hair whenever he was stressed, and not even in a normal way: it looked as if he were trying to feel every minute complexity in the surface of his scalp.

Thankfully though, he didn't have to put up with it much longer. His heart had already done a backflip before his mind had computed who had finally walked through the door of classroom Y4.

Eren had a headphone dangling from one ear, a chemistry textbook in his hand and a pen behind his other ear. He looked the picture of studious, if not for the fact that the shadows under his eyes suggested sleep deprivation and the expression on his face showed no interest in studying- rather, much to Armin's secret delight, it had considerably brightened upon seeing him.

"Ah," Jean said, finally stopping the hair thing, but irritating Armin more by twisting his face- which some say was quite good-looking- into a sour expression, as if he were sucking on the lemon of his own crushing regret. "He's coming this way, with the chick…"

Indeed, Eren had tight hold of Mikasa's hand, and was dragging her behind him.

"Her name is Mikasa," Armin muttered, and instantly regretted it, as Jean perked up.

"How do you know that?" Jean just had time to hiss softly, blinking twice in a sort of astonishment that Armin of all people might have been invested enough in this mysterious new girl with her stoic depression and midnight hair to do something as daringly banal as to discover her name. Thankfully for Armin's faith in Jean's humanity, Jean managed to work out who Armin was really invested in by the end of the morning: though it was possible he got it in the following thirty seconds.

"Uh… Hey Eren. I think Mikasa wants her hand back no-"

One day, Armin would learn that for him to get whole sentences out around Eren was somewhat of a feat. Indeed, on this occasion he could have ended his sentence, but was simply so taken aback by this enigmatic boy reaching to tuck his hair behind his ear before whispering, "Cute outfit." Particularly as he'd preceded the action by quite visibly mentally-preparing himself for the interaction, manifesting as a slight scowl. Indeed, his voice sounded faint, as if long unused- perhaps Eren couldn't speak to Mikasa?

It both worried and amused Jean to see the pair react after that. Armin went bright red, looking down at his feet as he fiddled with his sleeve, partly because Eren had noticed he'd made an effort, but mostly because it had been so important to Eren to tell Armin this that he'd put himself outside of his comfort zone.

Except Eren now seemed to be closing in on himself, smile gone, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"Um… T-Thank you," Armin said, as although he felt small in front of Jean, he felt Eren needed to know how much he appreciated it. Thankfully, Mikasa seemed on hand to help- Armin hoped she knew what he was trying to do, selfish reasons of getting Eren's divine attention aside.

"Hey, Eren," she said, he voice sounding as if it had been carried in on a breeze. She could narrate Armin's dreams; her voice was so velvety, "Look at Armin." It wasn't a command, it wasn't a pointer, rather a casual suggestion. And Eren did. Not into his eyes, just at his lips, which Armin couldn't help but having fixed in a small, embarrassed smile. He could feel Jean's stare on the back of his neck, but he didn't care, because Eren was blushing, and it was such a strange yet beautiful thing that Armin had to help from pinching himself.

Except it didn't last long, as somewhere along the lines, the situation became too much for Eren, who span on his heel and exited the classroom, pursued by Mikasa. In retrospect, it occurred to Armin that a person like Eren might be hyper-sensitive to social situations, and may indeed, from the corner of his eye, have noticed that Marco had entered the fray.

Just as Armin though the incident was over, Mikasa appeared again in the doorway. He wasn't sure how he'd not managed to notice before, but even from a few metres away, Armin found himself struck with how her eyes were like ice: not in that they were blue, as they were a dull brown, but how they seemed to reflect light so brilliantly yet still seem so unfeeling.

"Start of break, meet me in classroom C3."

And with that, she was gone.

The air around Armin seemed to have gone still. He had a hand pressed against his warmed cheeks, and had he have been in the right mood, he would have closed his eyes, savouring that blush, perhaps even pretending that that gentle touch was not his own. Alas, he was a student. Any ephemeral moments he was gifted in the world were more than likely to be taken away by the relentless tide of life than left for him to clutch to his chest, especially while he hung around with Jean.

"What the fuck was that?" was the best Jean could come up with.

"Ahaha, bless. Armin, I think Jean's a little jealous of the attention Mikasa gave you," Marco said softly, winking. Armin always admired how Marco managed to say even the most sharp-ended things without even a hint of malice in his voice, but on this occasion, it served to grate on him slightly. Maybe he subconsciously blamed Marco for Eren running away. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. But Armin felt bad, therefore Marco being his usual mild self was somewhat irritating.

"No, fuck that. Look at… Fuck, Armin, you can't have seriously fallen in love with that twerp, have you?"

Armin managed to gather his wits enough to retort, "That "twerp" that you've not yet apologised to for beating up, huh?"

Jean looked crushed. "I won't agree to it. You can't."

"You sound jealous."

There was a heavy pause.

"So… Are you gonna…" Jean looked down at his fingers.

"What?"

"See… Mikasa?"

"I wonder what that's about, huh. I mean, she and Eren…" Marco mused.

"Ha, Jean isn't interested in that. He just wants her phone number."

His words came out pricklier than he had intended. Perhaps that was why Jean didn't answer. Then again, perhaps it was because the bell rang, and the whole situation seemed to become of nothing when Armin realised the weight of the textbooks crammed into his rucksack. Fifteen minutes later and no one would remember the conversation held across the classroom between the odd new girl and the class bookworm, let alone notice that Eren's desk remained empty all morning. After all, what were human relationships when there were exams to be passed?

Armin of all people should know.